


WAdvent Day 9: Christmas is Carnage

by gardnerhill



Category: Gravity Falls, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Ducks, M/M, Penguins, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Watson's Woes WAdvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: The title is a quote from the movieBabe, spoken by another duck.
Relationships: Duck-Tective/Steve (Gravity Falls)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Watson's Woes WAdvent 2019





	WAdvent Day 9: Christmas is Carnage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the December 9, 2019 WAdvent Calendar.

It was just as well that Steve was the sole member of the firm who was active in the winter. Being a penguin, he was useless in summer months, languishing in the ice-filled coal scuttle, whilst Duck-Tective took cases and baffled police and solved murders. In the temperate seasons of spring and autumn both birds were at their crimefighting best, teaming up to bring down thieves or mock Constable Lingonberry. And in winter, while Steve reveled in his true element, his partner and friend stayed by the hearth, updating his records or reading police files (while Steve stayed in his unheated room with the windows wide open).

Other days and times in winter were colder and bleaker, but the last week of December was the worst time for the avian detective. Bill on breast, Duck rarely looked away from the flames, still and quiet for those days. Nothing could be done about his mood.

"What is the good of all we do, Steve?" Duck-Tective had once quacked, still staring into the fire. Steve had just drawn the curtains to keep the room warmer and to shut out the sight of the human carolers making their way along Baker Street. "What is the point of us solving the murder of some innocent park ducks, when the whole country celebrates bird-slaughter at this time of year?"

To that, Steve had no answer. He never did. Humans did not eat penguins for Christmas so he had no gut-level understanding of the existential horror faced by poultry and domestic waterfowl at this time.

Duck-Tective continued, his quacking still bitter. "And come December 26th I'll be listening to a plea for help from that snail-brained constable while his breath still reeks of turkey or goose from the night before."

Steve thought of his own fish-eating, wondering if fish feared holidays or if theirs was a year-round anxiety. Did slugs understand and fear ducks? It was complicated, being an eater of anything livelier than a water-plant. And it wasn't what his mate needed to hear right now. He finished grooming Duck's wings in silence, panting as quietly as he could in the oppressive heat of the room.

Duck turned and stroked Steve's back with his bill, once. "My dear old flipper. I'll be well in a few days. Go back to your room before you melt."

Steve nodded. "I'll be sure to give Lingonberry an 'accidental' peck on the ankle this week. Good night, Duck."

Steve was busy that week – thieves, brawls, the usual Christmas mayhem – and Duck's mood lightened more and more with each day after the dread 25th.

On New Year's Day, Steve was greeted by the sight of a splendid whole fresh salmon at his door. He had no trouble deducing who'd left the gift.

It was complicated. But one learned to live with such contradictions and sorrows, and made the best of them.

Steve stared into the still-shiny eye of the dead fish. "I promise not to waste a bite of you."  



End file.
